


Fearless

by charis2770



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Childhood Friends, Crying, D/s, First Time, M/M, Pining, Slash, Spanking, Spying, Suoh doing his job, Suoh trying to do the right thing, Yaoi, at least he thinks so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8116888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: Asami assigns Suoh to check out a young hairstylist in a neighborhood near where his bodyguard lives who has been selling information to police about gang members who are some of his clients, as he thinks the young man could be useful. It turns out he's pretty good at what he's doing, both as a stylist AND an information broker. And it turns out he knew Akihito when they were both younger. And that he has the hots for his new client. Any friend of Aki's can't possibly handle Suoh's desires, so he knows he has to keep the kid at arm's length. Hiro...has other ideas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been asked multiple times to write a story for Suoh. On my blog, he's a kinkster too, and he likes to play HARD. I've resisted writing anything because I just don't ship him with anyone in the Manga. We know so little about him, and I just had no inspiration. A follower named thathairstylisthiro started up an interaction with Akihito, and someone wrote a small story about it which contains some of the stuff you'll find in this story, like Hiro and Aki's history, and Hiro's occupation, and a few other things. You can read about all of it on my blog, askasamifeiandaki.tumblr.com if you're interested, but the story will make sense on its own. Apparently, all I needed was a spark to get me going. 
> 
> While this story is about all of the characters in my main series, this is going to be a one-off because it's probably the only time I'm going to feature Suoh as a main character. I'm not introducing another OC into the series, I just needed to find someone to trip the big guy's trigger. So, to those of you who aren't fans of OC's, don't worry, this is a one-time deal. There's nobody in the manga who fits the bill, and I'm grateful to the person who wrote the little story which sparked this.
> 
> For all of you who've asked to see Suoh in a story, here you go. I can tell you it's been a challenge to write dialogue for a guy who practically doesn't speak in the manga! I've enjoyed the challenge of keeping his sentences as short as possible when usually my characters are either fairly eloquent like Asami and Feilong, or like to babble like Akihito! I still think he gets his point across!

“Sure you don’t want me to do a little something different this time, Suoh-san? Maybe leave a little more on the top, go a different color? You’d look hot with purple hair!”

 

“No. The usual,” grunts the stoic man in the chair as his animated stylist with his careless fringe of silver hair efficiently twirls the salon cape around his massive shoulders and secures it at the back of his neck. He’s been coming to this place for the past six months, every three weeks like clockwork, to have his roots touched up and his hair cut. Always the same shade of blond. Always the same near-military short crop.

 

Hiro pouts a little, to which the big man doesn’t react. He drops the subject though, and sets about his work. Suoh Kazumi had begun patronizing this particular salon at his employer’s request, initially. He’d been perfectly satisfied with the woman who had done his hair before, but Asami-sama had called Suoh into his office one day and asked him to make a change.

 

“How would you feel about getting your hair done at a new salon,” he’d asked once Suoh had taken up his habitual stance before his boss’s desk, hands clasped in front of him, feet shoulder-width apart. 

 

“I’m happy with my current one, sir.”

 

“Would you hate leaving it?”

 

“No. Would you tell me why you want me to?”

 

Asami had chuckled a little and leaned back in his chair.

 

“Maybe Akihito is rubbing off on me,” he’d admitted. “Sometimes it’s interesting seeing how many words I can get out of you in a day. I’m sorry. I’ve come by some information. There’s a situation I’d like you to monitor. There’s a salon in Shimokitazawa that is known to be frequented by a number of gangsters. Interestingly enough, I’ve learned that one of the stylists there is an enterprising young man who has been providing some very reliable tips...for a small fee, of course...to police. As it happens, there are a couple of men known to frequent establishments in that area about whom I’m interested in learning a few things myself. It’s rather known for its eclectic cafes, bars, restaurants and music venues.”

 

“You want me to vet him,” said Suoh, seeing quickly where the boss was going with it, and cutting to the chase in the way he’d always prefered. 

 

“I’m glad you understand. If his abilities aren’t up to your standards, there’ll be extra compensation for you, but at least it’s not far from your apartment.”

 

Suoh had sighed, but as assignments went, it wasn’t a difficult one, so he’d called the salon and made an appointment. Walking into the place, he’d seen immediately what Asami had meant. There had been a young yakuza sitting in one of the salon chairs. He’d given his name to the receptionist and been told that “Hiro will be with you in just a few minutes.”

 

True to her words, less than ten minutes later, the stylist Asami had sent him to check out had appeared in front of him. A couple of inches taller than Asami’s young lover, and Suoh judged somewhere close to the same age. !5 pounds or so heavier, but none of it fat, the young man was just more muscular. He’d been dressed in bright colors, but wasn’t garish. They’d been fashionable, and fit him well. Suoh appreciated a man who knew how to dress well. Not just well, but in a style that suited him. There’d been an energy about him, which showed both in the spring in his step and the sparkle in his dark eyes. He’d executed a brief, shallow bow, introduced himself, and asked Suoh what he’d be doing for him that day.

 

“Just a trim, and refresh the roots,” he’d said shortly, following the guy to his station and seating himself in the salon chair. He remembers now how he’d thought to himself that at least his assignment was going to be relatively easy on the eyes. The kid sashayed a little when he walked, although Suoh had gotten the impression that he was putting it on a little, playing up his queer factor, and both time and experience had proved him to be right, because when Hiro isn’t working, he doesn’t walk like that at all. It had emphasized his hips and ass though, and Suoh admitted to himself that it was a nice view. Hiro had a tight, round little ass. One Suoh might have said in certain kinds of clubs that looked like it could take a lick. Although Hiro clearly spoke Japanese as a native language, and his eyes and facial features matched that voice, his skin was a little darker, a little more golden brown, and it had made the big man wonder about the boy’s background. 

 

From the very first appointment, the young stylist had made valiant attempts at two things. One was to get Suoh to engage him in conversation, and the other was to let Hiro do something different with his hair. To his grief, the most Suoh had let him get away with was to give him a few deep conditioning treatments that he had to admit had his hair feeling healthier than it had since he’d started bleaching and dyeing it blond years ago. 

 

Today, Suoh’s response to Hiro’s cajoling is the same. Today, Suoh’s response to Hiro’s attempts at conversation is  _ not _ the same. He’s been paying attention, arriving early for appointments, lingering for a bit after they’re done by pretending interest in whatever is showing on the salon’s television. He’s also come back after hours and followed Hiro a few times, and now he knows that Asami’s information is correct. Hiro is skilled at casually finding out details about his clients while he ministers to them. The boy doesn’t ply this skill on his lawful clients. He talks to them politely, and listens if they want to chatter at him, making appropriate sounds when they pause, but he doesn’t manipulate them. He only uses his skill on men with gang tattoos or reputations. He’s careful. He never cajoles or directly asks dangerous questions. He has a knack for leading people into revealing things, and never reacts when they do. Suoh has also seen him manage to plant suggestions a couple of times, almost always when a client has buddies waiting for him outside, standing around smoking and looking bored and shifty-eyed. When he’s finished with those clients, he’ll take a smoke break as they’re paying the cashier, plant himself far enough away from their waiting friends that he won’t look like he’s eavesdropping, and wait for the client to come out. Kid’s got ears like a damn bat. And also doesn’t actually smoke. And if what he’s doing doesn’t get him killed before he’s 25, he’s also got one  _ hell _ of a future as an information broker. So today, when Hiro says,

 

“Aren’t you ever going to tell me what you do for a living, Suoh-san? You’re my greatest mystery, and I’m dying of curiosity!” Suoh responds.

 

“I’m a driver. And a bodyguard.”

 

“Reallly,” purrs Hiro with excitement. Suoh’s lips sort of want to twitch with amusement, because he knows damn well Hiro wonders whether he’s a bad guy or not, but he doesn’t let them. He nods.

 

“And just who do you do this driving and guarding of bodies for?”

 

“Nobody you’d know,” he says calmly, pretending to ignore Hiro’s little huff of displeasure. He’s got no intention of making it easy for the kid. It’s...actually kind of fun. There’s one more thing he needs to know before he decides whether he’ll bring this guy to Asami-sama. And that’s how discrete he is. Now that he’s given Hiro this tidbit, will he try to ferret out Suoh’s employer from other sources, or will he keep his mouth shut and wait, keep trying on his own. He’s not optimistic. He knows the kid is burning with curiosity about him, and what they say about curiosity is true in Suoh’s world. 

 

But by the time his next appointment rolls around, to his surprise, Hiro hasn’t asked a soul about Suoh. And the worm Kirishima has planted in the kid’s computer and the clone Suoh had made of his cell phone on the first day proves he hasn’t tried a web search either. This last is the most surprising. Either Hiro is very well aware how dangerous what he’s doing could be and does nothing that will leave a trace of it anywhere, or he’s not as curious as he acts. And Suoh is pretty damn certain the boy is eaten up with curiosity about him. He decides this one is a potential asset worth pursuing. 

 

That night, he returns to the salon when it closes, having made sure Hiro is working until then. It’s open fairly late several nights a week, to cater to clients who have irregular work hours, so the sun has been down for hours and it’s well past dinner time for most people. He waits in the shadows of the employee parking lot in back of the salon for his target to emerge. Once Hiro’s back is to him as he lifts his helmet to put it on, preparing to mount his 150cc enduro bike, Suoh emerges silently.

 

“Set it back down casually, turn around, and act happy to see me,” he murmurs quietly, his voice a low, rocky growl. He doesn’t know if either of them are being watched, but he wants to see how the young man will react. He tells himself it’s just another step in the vetting process. It’s purely a coincidence that part of him just happens to like the tiny gasp of fear Hiro lets out, and the tiny shudder that passes through his body. Hiro sets his helmet down. His shoulders firm, and he turns, chin lifted to show he’s not afraid. The small act of bravado, of defiance in the face of the complete unknown, and knowing what Suoh now knows about Hiro’s extracurricular activities earns the kid several points in his estimation. He has guts. The moment he sees who is waiting for him, Hiro seems less afraid, even though he’s done a halfway decent job in not showing that he  _ was _ scared. 

 

“Suoh-chan,” he cries in an exaggeratedly excited voice, and goes up on tiptoes so he can throw his arms around Suoh’s neck, kissing the air by first one cheek and then the other. 

 

“Walk with me,” he whispers into the young man’s ear. He’s not sure why Hiro shivers when he does so. Probably tickles.

 

“I’d love to grab a drink,” cries the young stylist in a happy voice. He removes his arms (Suoh had been right about the muscles) and does a half-turn, sliding his arm through Suoh’s massive one. They walk along with the appearance of familiarity. Suoh asks about Hiro’s day, and the kid chatters on about it, relaying funny stories about his danger-free clients. He leads Suoh to a neighborhood joint, a cafe restaurant that is open late, and walks through the door like he owns the place. Turns out his cousin does, and it gains them a table in a rear seating area that has been closed down for the night, due to the fact that the flow of customers is lighter at this time.

 

“Were we followed?” Hiro asks curiously after a waitress takes their drink orders. Suoh asks for water. His companion orders a strawberry Ramune. 

 

“No,” replies Suoh. 

 

“Well that’s a relief. Nobody here will eavesdrop on us. I know all of the wait staff, and they’ll give us our privacy. Are you gonna tell me why I’m here?”

 

“You’re the one who chose it.” Suoh’s baiting the kid a little. It’s not very nice, but he doesn’t claim to be nice, and he gets kind of a kick out of how that full bottom lip juts out in a tiny pout. Hiro has tiny pouts down to a damn art form. He doesn’t exaggerate it like most people do. Just sticks it out a little. Like he’s trying to get away with it, claim that’s not what he’s doing. He’s not sure where this particular thought comes from. 

 

“All right, Captain Obvious,” laughs Hiro, relenting easily enough, “why are  _ you _ here with me, after sneaking up on me in the dark like that and making me play spy games.”

 

Their drinks arrive, so Suoh waits to respond. Hiro recommends a couple of things off the menu if he’s hungry, and tells him it’s on the house, since he’s here with family.

 

“I’ll pay my way. People here work for a living same as you and me.” He orders a bowl of noodles and a seaweed salad, while Hiro opts for octopus balls. They wait for the server to leave.

 

“I work for a man named Asami Ryuichi,” says Suoh calmly. Asami isn’t famous, and his name is only reliably known by  _ everyone _ in a few particular circles, but many more people would recognize him as someone wealthy and important if they saw him, as he’s frequently featured in society magazines.

 

“I’ve heard the name,” says Hiro, looking impressed. “He owns that hot club in Shunjuku, Dracaena, right? My mother gets a bunch of society mags. He has some other clubs and a couple of hotels too. Is that the guy you mean?”

 

“That’s him.” Suoh sips his water and waits a minute. He wonders if that’s all Hiro’s heard about the boss, but when all the kid does is start to look a little impatient, he decides it is. Asami doesn’t have real connections to any yakuza as low in the heirarchy as the ones who’d frequent Hiro’s salon, and the kid’s info gathering hasn’t led him into any big players’ yards yet. That’s just as well. He doesn’t have preconceived ideas about the kind of man the boss is. Instead of elaborating, he moves on. “I know what you’re doing.”

 

“Sitting here waiting for you to get to the point?” quips Hiro. Suoh raises an eyebrow and gives him a pointed look. Hiro’s skin doesn’t show blushes easily, he thinks, because his lips part a tiny bit and his pupils dilate briefly at the look. The reaction is...no. It’s not interesting.

 

“You mouth off to lots of guys you know nothing about when you’re alone in a mostly empty room?” he wonders out loud. Kid’s been baiting him, cajoling him, for a couple months now. He tells himself it’s just turnabout. Because it is. The way he drops his eyes, that’s not interesting either. 

 

“You’re the first,” he admits softly. For some reason, the  _ way _ he says it makes Suoh wonder,  _ The first what, exactly. _

 

“I know what you’re doing with what you learn from a certain kind of client.”

 

Hiro’s back straightens. His hand moves casually, picking up his napkin and shaking it out, placing it in his lap. Of course, they haven’t got their food yet. The  _ snick _ is very quiet, but Suoh hears it anyway.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Suoh-san,” he says. His voice actually sounds pretty calm. The knife he’s tried to pretend he hasn’t just pulled from his pocket belies the tone in his voice. His hand is still in his lap, where Suoh can’t see it.

 

“If you really didn’t, you’d have had no need to pull a blade,” replies the much larger man blandly, and takes another sip of water, placing his other hand on the table’s surface at the same time, showing that both of them are empty. 

 

“Why are you here?” asks Hiro again. He sounds almost angry now. 

 

“Not to hurt you.”

 

Hiro just stares at him. Suoh rolls his eyes a little.

 

“Put the knife away. I’m not here to hurt you, but I can have it off you in under 5 seconds.”

 

Hiro’s eyes narrow as he looks at Suoh intently, studying him closely, as if he’s trying to find something he’s looking for there. Suoh won’t tell him he’s a little gratified when he hears the tiny tick of the blade closing, and Hiro’s hands return to the table top. He wraps them both around his soda tightly.

 

“If I was here to hurt you, you’d know it. I’m here to arrange a meeting. That’s all.”

 

“A meeting?” Hiro looks surprised. “With your boss?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why would a businessman like him want to meet with me?”

 

“You’re a stylist,” comments Suoh. 

 

“I’m glad to know that,” quips Hiro. He’s covering for the way Suoh had scared him. Overcompensating for showing it. 

 

“Hey,” he growls softly, “rein it in.” 

 

And Hiro does. There’s that uninteresting eye drop again. His head ducks the littlest bit too. Huh. 

 

“Look, my boss does some of the same kind of work you do.  _ Not _ cutting hair, brat, don’t say it,” he snaps when Hiro smirks and opens his mouth. “But on a much bigger scale. An international scale. He wants to meet you. Thinks you may know something of interest to him.”

 

Hiro stares at him for a minute, surprise evident on his face. Suoh ignores the fact that he kind of likes the look; those wide eyes staring at him, the way his lips part. 

 

“Okay,” says Hiro. “When...when does he want to meet me?”

 

“You busy now?”

  
  
  


He’s not privy to what happens during Hiro’s meeting with the boss, but when the kid climbs back into the car in the parking deck under the high rise condominium, he’s pale, and his hands shake when he fastens his seatbelt. He doesn’t say anything. Suoh glances at him from the corners of his eyes as he drives. Kid doesn’t feel like chattering for once? That’s fine by him. The boss can be pretty intimidating when he wants to. He glances over again when he stops at a light. Hiro doesn’t look intimidated. He looks upset. On the verge of tears. Suoh frowns, then sighs heavily.

 

“Something eating you, kid?”

 

“I’m not a kid, I’m twenty-four,” snaps Hiro.

 

“You’re gonna want to watch your mouth,” says Suoh softly. Hiro shivers, and he tells himself resolutely that he doesn’t like it.

 

“Sorry,” whispers Hiro. He wraps his arms around himself and lets out a shuddery sigh. “It was just so...I never expected to see  _ him _ there.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Akihito.”

 

What? This young man knows Takaba? 

 

“You know him?”

 

“I...knew him,” HIro says softly. “A long time ago. We...we were best friends when we were little, but my family moved away when I was 13. We moved back four years later, after my parents got divorced, but things had...changed.”

 

The story pours out of him, Hiro growing more and more agitated and upset. Suoh listens as Hiro tells him how he’d grown a lot while in Mexico, and looked a lot different by the time he’d moved back. That Akihito hadn’t recognized him, and Hiro had thought his best friend had forgotten him. He confesses that he’d become angry, and instead of telling Aki who he was, he’d been cruel to him. Had bullied him and his friends for a long time. Now that he’s started, he doesn’t seem to be able to stop. He talks about his abusive father, and Hiro’s suppressed anger, and how he’d taken so much out on Akihito. He shares how he’d finally been sent away to a different school, one for troubled teens. About how he’d finally learned how to manage his anger, and had gone to Aesthetician School. Guilt and loneliness are evident in every line of his body and written all over his face. 

 

“I don’t know what to do. All I ever wanted was to be Aki’s friend again, but after the way I treated him, there’s no way he’ll ever forgive me.”

 

Suoh snorts. After some of the things he knows young Takaba has endured at the hands of even the people he now shares a bed with on a nightly basis, Hiro’s fears are almost funny in comparison.

 

“Apologize,” he tells the miserable young man sitting next to him, staring bleakly out the window. 

 

“I can’t,” wails Hiro. “Even if Aki would let me, your boss is a scary guy. If he finds out I hurt Akihito, he’ll probably just….kill me and drop my body in a hole somewhere. And if he doesn’t, that Chinese guy with the long hair will. Hey, do you think he’d tell me what he uses on it? Some of my clients would pay a fortune to have hair that looks half as good as his!”

 

Suoh stops the car in the employee parking lot of Hiro’s work. He turns to face Hiro and pins him with a stern glare.

 

“No. And you’ll apologize.”

 

“What, you’re going to make me or something?” mutters Hiro stubbornly.

 

“If I have to.”

 

He tells himself it’s his imagination that Hiro squirms a little in his seat when he says this.

 

“You don’t understand,” protests Hiro.

 

“I’ll pick you up after your shift,” says Suoh implacably.

 

“Tyrant,” mutters Hiro. “Fine. And...he did say I could give him a manicure when he turned down my offer to dye his hair blue.”

 

Suoh raises his eyebrow.

 

“Course, he didn’t know who I was when he said it. This isn’t going to work, you know. You’ll probably be taking me to my doom. My blood will be on your hands!”

 

“Don’t be dramatic. You’re apologizing,” Suoh says, ignoring the impulse to laugh.

 

“Fine,” sighs Hiro again, then he peeks up at Suoh. “Will you tend to my wounds if Akihito’s boyfriend beats the shit out of me, Suoh-san?”

 

“He won’t.”

  
  


He’s right, of course. The boss has stopped interfering in his little lover’s personal life, so long as the things going on in it aren’t a threat to Takaba’s safety. He doesn’t know what happens between Takaba and Hiro, but he’s pretty sure the fact that after spending a couple of hours in the penthouse, they load up their backpacks and both head off on Takaba’s scooter means Hiro has not only been forgiven, he’s gotten his friend back too.

 

His assignment to make contact, investigate the young stylist, and put him in contact with Asami is finished. He’s free to go back to his old salon, but he doesn’t. He tells himself it’s because Hiro does a better job than the woman he used to see. It’s true. It’s also true that Hiro’s cousin’s cafe has good food, and has become his favorite place to go for breakfast before work. He tells himself it has nothing to do with Hiro himself, and that he doesn’t think of those downcast eyes, or the shiver that had gone through the young man’s body when he’d told him what to do. He doesn’t think about that body either, or the way Hiro’s ass looks in his tight skinny jeans. He doesn’t have time to think about things like that. His subconscious mind, on the other hand, has plenty of time to think about it. Waking up with erections more insistent than he’s had in years is starting to become annoying. Dreaming of a tight little body arched in pain as it tugs helplessly against its bonds, the leather of a strap clenched tight in his fist, its edges digging into his palm. Of his hands on supple flesh, gripping tightly, plunging his cock over and over into an eager body that begs for more in between cries of pain and pleasure.

 

The next time he goes to the salon for his regular appointment, it’s harder to ignore the way Hiro’s hands feel in his hair, the gentle caress on his scalp as the stylist separates the strands with his fingers. 

 

“You need another treatment,” Hiro announces. “It’s been a while, and you hair is getting stressed again.”

 

“I don’t have time today,” he grunts.

 

“You should make time, Suoh-san. You’ve got to take care of your hair, you know. I know what I’m talking about,” chides Hiro. He relents, and follows the young man back to the washing stations. He closes his eyes when he’s leaned back over the sink. The warm water feels good, but Hiro’s hands in his hair, massaging the deep conditioning treatment into his hair and scalp, feel better. 

 

“Suoh-san?”

 

The soft question in Hiro’s voice tricks him into opening his eyes and he finds himself looking up into the kid’s face. Hiro smiles at him. He nibbles nervously at his bottom lip, his teeth white against its pink, full flesh. He grunts interrogatively.

 

“Do you...would you like to go get a drink with me, after work sometime?”

 

This is bad. It’s very bad. He slams his eyes back shut and frowns.

 

“Not a good idea,” he replies, considering the subject closed.

 

“Why is it not a good idea?” asks Hiro, refusing to take the hint.

 

“We have nothing in common,” he answers.

 

“I don’t think that’s true,” says Hiro softly. “I think we have a lot more in common than you think.”

 

“You don’t know anything about me, Hiro,” he says tiredly, pushing aside how much he likes the feel of those fingers softly massaging his head.

 

“I know you have natto over rice with mustard and soy sauce at my cousin’s place every morning at 6:30 like clockwork. I know you like baseball, and classic rock. I know you go to Okunoshima sometimes on your days off,” whispers Hiro. Suoh opens his eyes again and glares up at him.

 

“Are you following me, you little brat?”

 

Hiro bites his lip again, something he really needs to stop doing.

 

“N-no! I just saw you one day at the station, buying a ticket, when I was on my way to visit a friend from school on Hokkaido. Aki told me about the baseball and music,” he admits. 

 

“Just let it go, kid,” says Suoh gruffly. “I’m not interested.” He ignores the hurt look in Hiro’s eyes. The rest of his appointment passes in silence. He leaves a bigger tip than usual. It’s not an apology, he tells himself. 

 

Three days later, when he opens to door to his apartment on his way to breakfast, his toe bumps into a small white paper sack. He bends down and picks it up, frowning as he unfolds the top. Inside, he finds a jumbo-sized bag of wasabi and soy sauce roasted almonds. There’s a note attached.

 

“ _ These are my favorites too. _ ”

 

He shakes his head, sighing, as he walks out to the car. But he eats the almonds. Be a shame to let them go to waste. Work keeps him busy for the next couple of weeks, but the next time he has a night free, he finds himself craving some of cousin Takeshi’s octopus balls. He’d tried some of Hiro’s the first time he’d been to the small restaurant, and they’d been the best he’s ever had. After he’s placed his order, he sits back to wait, taking out his phone to check up on today’s baseball scores. His favorite team, the Yomiru Giants, are doing well this season. Sensing an approach, he looks up just as Hiro slides into the seat across from him.

 

“I didn’t say you could sit,” says Suoh irritably.

 

“I know,” grins Hiro.

 

“Little boys should get permission,” he responds grumpily. 

 

“What happens when they don’t?” asks the young man, lacing his fingers together under his chin and batting his eyelashes at Suoh. Suoh grits his teeth at the images the questions incur.

 

“Nothing you could handle,” he promises.

 

“How do you know what I could handle, Suoh-san, unless you find out?”

 

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” growls the big man, suddenly shoving his chair back from the table. He yanks out his wallet and throws several bills down on the table. “Apologize to your cousin for me. I’ve lost my appetite.” He turns on his heel and strides from the restaurant, ignoring Hiro when he calls after him. He warms up some leftovers at home and eats them mechanically. It’s not the meal he wanted, but he hardly tastes the food. His dreams are far too present in the front of his mind. Hiro’s impudent question evokes unwelcome images of punishing the brat’s presumption. His hand at the small of the kid’s back, holding him down despite his struggles, yanking down those absurdly tight jeans over his round ass, his belt impacting quivering cheeks over and over, the sound of Hiro’s cries resounding in his ears. He can still hear them when he gets into bed and lays his head on his pillow.  _ You’re no good for him, _ he tells himself for the hundredth time.  _ He can’t handle what you want, not a kid like him. Besides, his life is dangerous enough, the risks he takes, without your business making it worse. _ Sleep is a long time coming.

 

He cancels the appointment he’d made with Hiro for next week in the morning, ignoring the impulse to hang up before he has a chance to get the words out. He’s indulged himself long enough, and sticking around will just encourage Hiro’s infatuation with him. It’s the responsible thing to do, and his old stylist hadn’t ever done a  _ bad _ job, after all. He puts it out of his mind and focuses on his job. No matter the circumstances, he will never give Asami-san anything less than his best. The exhorbitant salary he’s paying Suoh aside, Asami has earned his loyalty time and again. He’s never asked anything of Suoh he wouldn’t be willing to do himself. They’ve fought side by side. Asami treats him with respect, not at all the way many men with his wealth and power would treat a subordinate. He’s generous too, offering Suoh use of vacation properties he owns for his annual vacation, and giving him season tickets to the Giants every year for his birthday. He won’t allow himself to be distracted by regrets.

 

He’s even managed to convince himself he’s succeeded as he heads home that night. He stops to pick up takeout on the way. It’s not as good as Takeshi’s food, but he’s decided it’s probably wise to give that up too, at least for a while. He takes the stairs as always, preferring the exercise of climbing the 10 flights on foot to riding the elevator in ease and comfort. He senses the presence of someone else in the hall as soon as he opens the door and tenses a little. It’s probably just another resident, but he hasn’t survived as long as he has in a dangerous job by taking anything for granted. He shifts the takeout bag to his non-dominant hand, unbuttons his jacket, and unfastens the snap on his holster as he proceeds down the hall towards the corner. Before he steps around it to approach his apartment, he puts his back to the wall and peeks around it. He stifles a frustrated growl and pulls his head back, laying it against the wall for a few seconds, praying for patience. Then, after snapping the catch on his pistol back into place, he squares his shoulders and turns the corner, striding down the hall to his door, where Hiro sits on the floor, cradling his head in his arms. The white light of the overhead fluorescents gleams off the silver of his hair with its faint lavender tint. 

 

The kid hears his approach and lifts his head. He looks tired. Suoh wonders how long he’s been waiting.

 

“Go home,” he growls, looming intentionally as Hiro scrambles to his feet.

 

“Not until you tell me why you cancelled your appointment,” retorts the young man, lifting his chin and glaring up at him defiantly.

 

“I don’t have to tell you. What I do isn’t your business, boy. Go  _ home, _ ” Suoh snaps irritably.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” cries Hiro angrily. “You like me. I know you do, I see the way you look at me! Well, I like you too!” He grabs the front of Suoh’s suit jacket and does his best to shake him emphatically. Suoh, of course, doesn’t budge, being 6’3” and 200 pounds of solid muscle. Hiro would probably have better luck budging a Civic.

 

“No,” says Suoh definitely, “you don’t.”

 

“You can’t tell me what I feel. Or what to do. But you  _ could _ .”

 

“I’m not...what?” Suoh opens his mouth wearily to try again to convince the kid to leave when his words sink in.

 

“You could, Suoh-sama. I’d be good. For you. If you’ll just let me.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re asking, Hiro,” he says, annoyed that his dick doesn’t share his resolve to get rid of the boy. He notes the change in honorific too, and his dick doesn’t hate that either. Damn it.

 

“Yes I do,” shouts Hiro. “I  _ do _ know. I’ve been waiting for someone like you almost my whole life. At least since I knew what I wanted. Someone who’d make me...make me  _ want _ to be good for them. I  _ know _ what it means. I’m not s-stupid! I’ve been around, been to clubs that...places I thought I might find it. But nobody ever had what I need. You do. I knew you did the day I met you. I felt it.”

 

“I would break a kid like you,” Suoh responds. Why won’t this stupid boy get a clue and leave him alone? For his own good? Suoh has taken a couple of men at their word when they’ve said things very much like this to him. He’ll never forget the expressions on their faces when he’d shown them what he wanted, unleashed even a little of it. The betrayal, the disgust. He’d grown disillusioned long ago, and limits his activities to a certain club where he’s already aware of his play partners’ capacity for the kind of pain he likes before he lays a hand on them, having watched them with other tops first. It isn’t emotional, or intimate, but it’s an outlet, and a safe one, for his...tastes.

 

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I like...what I  _ need _ ,” retorts Hiro, almost screaming now. A door opens a little way up the hall, and he can see curious eyes peering out.

 

“Lower your voice,” he snarls warningly.

 

“MAKE ME!!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suoh decides to show Hiro what he's asking for, knowing that the kid will run for the door as soon as he gets it. He's had it happen before. He knows exactly what to expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a fairly intense belt whipping. There is, however, a safeword in place, so despite the tension of the situation, the scene is consensual. 
> 
> It's so important, guys. Never play without them. Seriously.

Well. Suoh's carefully maintained control snaps. Little brat  comes here and makes a scene in front of his  _ home _ to try and manipulate him in to giving it to him? Maybe showing him how wrong he really is will do what just  _ telling _ him hasn’t yet. Get him to go away. Because he’s going to, as fast as his legs can carry him, once he feels what he thinks he’s asking for! He unlocks his apartment door and shoulders it open, grabbing Hiro by the collar of his shirt. Yanking him inside, he kicks the door closed and shoves the kid away from him, in the direction of the seating arrangement that makes up Suoh’s living room. He shrugs off his jacket and slowly unbuckles his belt. Hiro straightens and turns to face him, his eyes glued to Suoh’s hands, wide and scared. Suoh toes off his shoes as he’s pulling the leather through the loops on his pants.

 

“Take off y’fucking shoes,” he growls, the rougher, less cultured accent of his youth coming out in his speech in his anger. “Y’r not a barbarian.”

 

Hiro kneels instantly to obey him, unlacing his short boots and then crawling... _ crawling!! _ ...past Suoh to place them by the door. Suoh slides his weapon off his belt and sets it down on the countertop that separates his living area from his kitchen, still not taking his eyes off the kid.

 

“Make me,” whispers Hiro, gazing up at him from his knees, and it hits Suoh like a punch to his guts that it hadn’t been fear he’d seen in his eyes at all. It’s still there, that wide-eyed look, but it’s desire. “Suoh-sama... _ make _ me.”

 

“Get up,” he snaps, and Hiro obeys him instantly, scrambling to his feet and standing before Suoh,  his chest heaving. His little pink tongue darts out nervously to wet his lips. “Make a scene in my hallway, in front of my neighbors? Fine, you little shit, you think this is what you want? Little boys who yell at their elders and disturb hard working people’s rest...deserve to be punished.”

 

“Yes, Suoh-sama,” breathes Hiro, his throat working as he swallows hard.

 

“Drop your pants and underwear and bend over the back of the couch,” says Suoh harshly, slowly wrapping his belt around his fist, the buckle gripped in his palm. The leather is thick, two inches wide and nearly a quarter inch thick, black and well-oiled. Fancy dress belts have never been his style, or suited his bulk. He watches as Hiro bobs his head once, then lowers it, for the first time flushing in embarrassment deeply enough that Suoh can see the redness in his ears and cheeks. His fingers fumble a little as he works at the button and fly of his jeans, and he has to squirm a little to get them pulled down past his hips and ass. And the rather insistent looking erection bobbing between his thighs, the head red and already wet. Others have started out that way at this point too. It won’t last long, but Suoh won’t hold back. To show this boy anything less than what Suoh really wants, what it would really mean to be his “good boy” would be a disservice to both of them. He’s tried that before too, held back, tried to be all right with less. It’s never worked. No, Hiro will get exactly what he’s asking for, and as soon as he’s gotten it, he’ll be sorry he’d asked, and be gone. Out of Suoh’s hair and his life, and soon enough after that, the irritating dreams will be gone too. 

 

Hiro turns, his head still down so he doesn’t have to look Suoh in the eye and acknowledge his state, and bends carefully over the back of the long gray plush sofa, shifting his hips and stifling a soft gasp when his hard cock brushes the upholstery and then settles against it.

 

“Y’think I’m what you want?” Suoh’s voice is bitter as he finishes winding his belt around his hand so that a good 2 feet of it hang down. “Think you want me to  _ make you _ be good?”

 

“Yes, Suoh-sama,” gasps Hiro.

 

“Y’don’t know what you’re asking, boy. Wouldn’t listen when I told you. Fine. Y’know what a safeword is, kid?”

 

“Yes,” Hiro says breathlessly. “Mine’s  _ dolor _ ,”

 

“What does that mean?” demands Suoh, mostly to cover his surprise that Hiro not only knows what a safeword is, but already has one.

 

“It’s the Spanish word for pain,” Hiro replies in a small voice. 

 

“Huh. All right. Listen to me, boy, and pay attention. I’ll stop for that.  _ Only _ that. You got it? You can tell me, beg me to stop, but I’m not going to. Not till I’ve shown you how  _ I _ punish a boy who doesn’t obey me. Unless I hear that word. Understand?”

 

“Yes, Suoh-sama.  _ Please _ .”

 

“You’ll be sorry,” Suoh assures him. He draws his arm back, pinning his gaze on the young man’s submissively upthrust naked ass.  _ Fuck _ , but it’s even better without his pants on. The crack of leather on bare flesh is like a gunshot in the quiet, dimly lit apartment. Hiro’s body stiffens at the impact. The stroke leaves a rapidly darkening band of red across the middle of his bottom. He doesn’t make a sound, his breath taken completely away by the shock of how bad it actually hurts. He regains his voice at the second stroke, laid down just below the first.

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he breathes. His hands, pressed against the seat of the couch to prevent him from falling over it, curl into fists. 

 

“Good little boys don’t say filthy words,” says Suoh sternly. Kid wants to know, he’s getting a real demonstration then. “You’ll have to be punished for that too.”

 

“Ahh!” Hiro yelps as another stroke sizzles across his ass. “I’m sorry!”

 

“Y’will be,” Suoh promises. Hiro whimpers. The sound of it goes straight to Suoh’s cock, already more than half hard despite his bitterness, his surety about how this is going to turn out. He brings the strap down again, blistering Hiro’s backside with hot pain. The young man cries out this time, and he can’t help it, even if he knows where this is headed, Suoh just flat fucking loves the sound. His blood sings as he straps the boy hard, over and over. He hasn’t done this in a very long time, and it’s fantastic. It’s glorious. Hiro’s cries grow louder, and his feet kick a little as his poor bottom is set steadily on fire.

 

“Oh oww,” he cries. “It hurts! Suh-Suoh-sama I’m  _ sorry _ ! AHH! I’ll be good! I’ll be so….OWWW… so good! I p-promise! AHH!” He writhes as Suoh spanks him even harder, his hips bucking in protest of the searing fire in his defenseless backside. Suoh places his hand at the small of the young man’s back, trying not to think about how almost exactly like some of the dreams he’s had it feels, and holds him down firmly. Hiro moans when Suoh’s hand slides under the hem of his shirt, which has been held in place from sliding up under his arms because he’s laying on it. His skin is soft and warm, damp with the sweat of pain and strain. 

 

“Be still, boy. We’re not done,” orders Suoh softly. 

 

“I’m sorry I was bad,” whimpers Hiro in a small voice. His toes reach the floor in his position, just, and he uses them to lift his hips slightly, almost as if offering his flesh up in supplication. “I’ll be so good for you.”

 

Suoh’s cock twitches in his pants at those words, and the  _ sound _ of them, Hiro’s voice soft and sweet and earnest, strained with suffering. Oh, he  _ likes _ it. Way too much. He shakes his head, frowning at himself.  _ Better not like it too much, _ he thinks to himself, _ because he won't stick around for you to enjoy it. _ Frowning at himself, he lashes the strap across Hiro’s very red bottom again, and then again. Hiro wails, and his toes drum the floor, but he stays in position. Obeying. Another stroke catches him at the very lowest curve of his cheeks, lifting them slightly, and he lets out a sob. Yet another in the same place, and then one more, and he bursts into tears. He pleads within sobs, promising to be good, crying that it hurts, it hurts so  _ much _ . Suddenly, Suoh realizes that he hasn’t heard Hiro beg him to  _ stop. _

 

He realizes he’s grinning ferociously, reveling in this, but he can’t help it. It’s the only time he’s going to get to do this, and he’s been thinking about it for a long time, been tormented at night by visions of doing this. He brings his arm down again, and again. Hiro wails and sobs as the fire in his bottom mounts hotter and hotter. He’s managed to kick his pants all the way off so that they have fallen a couple of feet away in a huddled pile of black denim and bright purple boxers.

 

After somewhere around twenty punishing strokes, Suoh pauses. He’s so hard now his cock aches like a fucking wound in his pants, straining against the fabric. He leans down a little, closer to Hiro’s head.

 

“You’ve been punished for raising your voice to me,” he says softly, his deep, gravelly voice rough with the lust burning in his blood. “Now I’m going to punish you for your language. Spread your legs.”

 

Hiro whimpers fearfully, with a tiny head-shake of negation, but he obeys. His thighs tremble as he spreads them, wide enough so that his toes can barely reach the floor anymore.

 

“No more kicking,” Suoh says firmly. “If you want to be good for me so bad, you keep those toes on the floor.”

 

“Ngh...I...I’ll truh-try,” sobs Hiro.

 

“Good boy,” Suoh says gruffly, startled to realize he means it. He shifts so that he stands behind the crying boy, and twists his wrist to shorten the length of the strap in his right hand, keeping the left firmly pressed into Hiro’s lower back. He pulls his arm back again, and sends the belt hissing down to bite cruelly into the baby-soft, tender skin of Hiro’s inner thigh. The boy howls in pain, his legs quivering, but his toes stay on the floor. Suoh whips the belt down against the other leg in the same spot. Over and over, he paints hot, angry red welts down the insides of both thighs, then back up again to the crux, narrowly missing the taut roundness of his testicles. Hiro can’t find breath for words now, just wails and cries. His bottom and both legs are red and raw and covered in welts. At last, when a particularly hard stroke catches him just below his balls, he shrieks.  His hips work up and down as much as he can move them under the weight of Suoh’s arm, which isn’t much, but as his cheeks clench and unclench, Suoh catches a glimpse of his tiny crinkled hole between them. His arm falls to his side, and he slowly opens his fingers one at a time, realizing he’s been holding the belt so hard that they’re hurting.

 

His hand on Hiro’s back eases back, gentling, and his thumb strokes softly over the boy’s damp skin. Shakily, Hiro lifts his head, his ridiculous silver bangs plastered to his forehead and dark with sweat. He turns tear-filled eyes up to look at Suoh, filled with pain.

 

“Good boy, Hiro-kun,” he says softly. “You were very brave. No, stay there,” he adds when he takes his hand away and Hiro begins to try to push himself up. Quickly, he rounds the end of the couch and sits, effortlessly tumbling the boy over and into his lap. Hiro promptly buries his face in Suoh’s white shirt and cries, throwing his arms around the older man’s thick neck and holding on for all he’s worth. A little surprised, Suoh wraps his own arms around the slim body in his lap and holds on. At any moment, he expects the kid to begin to struggle to escape, so he keeps the embrace gentle, unrestricting. He rubs Hiro’s back in small circles. Hiro’s response is to wrap his legs around Suoh’s waist and hold on tighter. This plants his punished ass directly over the thick ridge of the big man’s erection, but the crying boy doesn’t seem to notice. His chest tight with an emotion he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before, Suoh ignores it resolutely and lifts one hand to card his fingers softly through Hiro’s damp hair. Slowly, but rather faster than expected, his sobs ease to a soft crying, and then stop.

 

“I’m sorry I was bad,” he whispers, lifting his head enough so that the words are spoken against the skin of Suoh’s throat. It feels a lot better than it should.

 

“Shh,” he soothes, “That’s over. You were brave.”

 

“Kiss me, Suoh-sama,” breathes Hiro, pulling back to tip his head back and look into Suoh’s face. Suoh looks into his eyes searchingly. He sees no recrimination there, no accusation, no disgust. In fact, to his immense surprise, he can feel Hiro’s erection poking insistently into his stomach. Despite how badly the spanking had hurt, his cock has remained hard the whole time. The need he’s tried to keep carefully reined in due to the expected outcome suddenly rages in Suoh’s belly and hammers in his brain.

 

“Kazumi,” he mutters, his fingers closing into a fist as he lowers his head and covers Hiro’s mouth with his own. He kisses him slowly, his tongue softly tracing the seam between the boy’s lips. Hiro opens his mouth eagerly and kisses him back with a hungry little moan. His legs tighten and he surges up into the kiss so that Suoh doesn’t have to bend as much. Suoh’s arm tightens around him to hold him up. Their tongues touch and slide as the kiss deepens, the salt of Hiro’s tears a heady spice. He pulls back to look carefully into the young man’s eyes again, hunting for any sign of doubt. He sees none.

 

“Kazumi,” whispers Hiro obediently. “Please...please sir, I want you so bad.”

 

Suoh closes his eyes and groans a little at the “sir.” He opens them again to see Hiro smiling tentatively, tremulously at him.

 

“Are you sure? Be  _ very _ sure, boy.”

 

“I’m so sure. Please. Kazumi...Sir...I want you so bad. Fuck me. Please. Now.”

 

A chuckle rumbles in Suoh’s chest as he stands up with Hiro still wrapped firmly around him, one arm tight around his waist to keep him there.

 

“Be patient,” he admonishes. “‘Now’ isn’t a great idea, ‘less you don’t  _ want _ to be able to walk later.”

 

“Oh, but I…”

 

“Ah-ah, it’ll be the way I say, little boy, or you can have another spanking instead,” Suoh interrupts him, but the threat is probably somewhat damaged by his smile.

 

“Ohh, I like your smile,” says Hiro dreamily, laying his head on Suoh’s broad shoulder and subsiding obediently as he’s carried through the apartment to the one large bedroom. Suoh sets him down gently, turning him so that he lays on his stomach. He can’t help a deep rumble of satisfaction at the sight of the boy’s dark red bottom. Hiro whimpers when his thighs touch, and spreads them apart quickly, squirming in a way Suoh finds both endearing and incredibly provocative. He places one knee between them and leans over Hiro’s body, tracing gentle fingers over the welts he’s put there. Hiro squirms and whines, but doesn’t try to escape.

 

“Didn’t scare you off?” Suoh asks, surprised at how hesitant the question sounds.

 

“No.” Hiro shakes his head. “ _ No. _ I asked for it. I wanted it. It hurt so bad. You’re really strong,” he laughs ruefully. “But I thought...I  _ hoped _ you’d be able to give me what I’ve wanted for so long.” He twists a little so that he’s lying partly on his side and he can look back at Suoh without strain. His expression is solemn, but Suoh can see the sincerity there. “I want to be good...someone’s good boy... _ yours _ if you let me. But I really...really did need someone who could  _ make _ me. I’m not like Aki. He likes what Asami-san does to him, but the really,  _ really _ hard stuff scares him. He told me how bad canes scare him, but I love them.” The arm that lies along his side lifts, and his fingers open and close. Suoh takes his hands and twines their fingers together, saying nothing, letting the boy speak. Hiro smiles happily when their hands clasp. “I used to hurt people. My dad hurt my family. I still have a lot of that anger that made me so those things inside me. It’s part of why I do what I do at work, selling what I know. Those gangsters I turn in, they’re bad people, and I’m  _ glad _ to get them in trouble. I don’t care what happens to them. I’m  _ not _ some sweet, gentle, forgiving person like Aki. Sometimes I need...something like this...to pull the anger out. To keep me good, not bad. And I can’t just...let it out. Someone has to  _ tear _ it out, and it’s not easy. It’s not easy for me to cry.”

 

“You took more than I expected before you did,” Suoh admits. Hiro grins proudly.

 

“I can get pretty bad,” Hiro says softly, his face clouding. “But I want to be good for  _ you. _ Will you maybe...give me a chance?”

 

“Looks like,” Suoh replies with a small smile.

 

“Awesome,” breathes Hiro. “Now will you also give me your huge monster dick please? Oh,” he gasps, eyes widening in alarm. “Is that a bad word? I’m so sorry! I…”

 

Suoh chuckles.

 

“You can be as dirty as you want in bed,” he assures Hiro, who looks like he might be about to panic. “Any boy who wants to be with me has to follow my rules. There aren’t many. We’ll talk about them later.”

 

“Any deal breakers I need to know?”

 

“One. Nobody kisses that mouth but me. Nobody fucks that tight little hole but me. Got it?”

 

“Yes sir,” gasps Hiro, squirming again. Suoh pushes him back over onto his stomach and plants a kiss between his shoulders. He gets up and walks around the bed to one of two matching bedside tables. Opening its small drawer, he takes out a bottle of lube and a condom.

 

“Take your shirt off,” he orders as his fingers begin to work open the buttons of his own. Hiro wriggles out of it, dropping it over the side of the bed, and pushes himself up on his elbow to watch Suoh undress. As his heavily muscled, heavily scarred torso is revealed, Hiro’s eyes wander over his skin hungrily. His hands drop to his waistband and he thumbs open the button on his slacks, taking in the expression on the younger man’s face. He hooks his thumbs in his pants and boxer briefs at the same time and pushes them down, letting them drop to the floor at the same time. Hiro’s eyes widen and his lips fall open. He mouths a silent “wow” as he stares in awe at the older man’s fully erect cock.

 

“I’m not sure it’s going to fit,” he gasps hesitantly.

 

“It will fit,” grins Suoh wolfishly. Hiro gulps. Chuckling, Suoh falls on him, catching most of his weight on his hands and pressing Hiro into the bed. Hiro giggles and writhes underneath him, gasping and letting out a theatrical moan when his  _ very _ spanked bottom squirms against Suoh, who growls softly and grinds his erection between his hot little cheeks and nips the back of his neck and shoulders. Hiro shudders and ruts up against him. Suoh groans softly, rolling off him to lie on his side, propped up on one elbow.

 

“You tempt me, brat,” he scolds, running his fingers up Hiro’s ribs. Hiro writhes and shouts with helpless laughter, trying to push him away.

 

“ _ Stop _ that, I’m ticklish!” When Suoh stops, he stares up at the big man, something like shock on his face.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re not what I expected, Suo...I mean, Kazumi.”

 

“How so?”

 

“I guess I expected having sex with you to be just like...getting my ass pulverized by you was. Rough and hard and...sort of relentless.”

 

“Disappointed?” asks Suoh, raising both eyebrows. Hiro shakes his head.

 

“No! No...just...surprised. I guess I shouldn’t be. Any guy who goes to play with thousands of bunnies on his day off can’t be  _ just _ a hardass.”

 

“If you tell anyone,” growls Suoh threateningly, “I’ll spank you as hard as tonight every day for a month.” Hiro gulps and looks distinctly guilty.

 

“Hiro…!”

 

“I...um...might’ve...possibly...already told...Aki?”

 

Suoh sighs and rolls his eyes.

 

“Are...are you really gonna...do that?” whispers Hiro, a tinge of real fear in his voice. Strong fingers ruffle his hair softly.

 

“Too late now, it was before the threat,” Suoh sighs again. “Well, at least Asami-san already knows.”

 

“I bet if you take Aki with you sometime, he won’t tell anyone else. I’d like to go too,” offers Hiro hopefully.

 

“We’ll see. You’re responsible for keeping him quiet until.”

 

“Um,” says Hiro, thinking about his irrepressible friend and wondering if there’s a bribe on the planet he can afford that will get Aki to keep such a juicy tidbit to himself. Suoh’s mouth quirks into a wicked smile.

 

“Just tell him what I’ll do to you. It’ll work.”

 

Hiro brightens, because it’s absolutely true. The playful expression on his face slides away with a gasp when Suoh’s index finger suddenly slips between his cheeks and swirls softly around his asshole, slick and cool with lube.

 

“Ohh,” he moans, lifting his hips, inviting the gently questing finger inside. Suoh slaps him gently on his raw little butt and his moan turns into a strangled squawk. Hiro gives him wounded eyes, but Suoh laughs.

 

“I’ll drive, little boy. Relax.”

 

“Yes, sir,” says Hiro, and does. He lays his head on folded arms, watching Suoh’s face while Suoh watches what he’s doing. He circles the small pucker slowly and gently, tickling and stroking with just the pad of his finger for quite some time, just enjoying the way it makes Hiro sigh and hum and whimper a little, practically vibrating with eagerness. Just when the kid’s eyebrows are starting to draw together in a tiny frown of frustration, he slowly eases his finger past his entrance, dipping just inside, nudging the ring of muscle about an inch inside, but not breaching it yet. Hiro bites his lip and tries to be good. 

 

“I’ve heard it can hurt pretty bad sometimes,” he murmurs softly. Suoh freezes.

 

“You’ve  _ heard _ ?” he asks, his brain suddenly tracking back to the thing Hiro had said in Takeshi’s cafe the first time he’d been there.  _ “You’re the first.” _

 

“Mm-hmm.” Hiro opens his eyes, having closed them a little bit ago to focus on what Suoh’s doing. “Is something wrong?”

 

“Hiro,” grits Suoh between his teeth, “is this your first time?”

 

“I’m not a  _ virgin, _ ” says Hiro, rolling his eyes. “I’ve fucked plenty of girls, had a girlfriend until pretty recently, and topped a couple of guys. I’ve  _ known _ for a long time that I wanted  _ this... _ I’ve just never found anybody who made me want to let them. Until I met you.”

 

That makes it a little better, but...Suoh withdraws his hand.

 

“Maybe we better wait. Get to know each other more.”

 

Hiro groans in frustration and bangs his forehead against the mattress.

 

“Please, please don’t do this to me. I don’t need my virtue protected. I haven’t got any, I promise. I’m not gonna get any more sure, and if you leave me like this, I may die. Seriously. Even if things don’t...work out between us, I am not going to regret it. You’ve fulfilled a fantasy I’ve had for a long time, and I know I want this. Please give me credit for knowing that, sir,” he says earnestly, giving very good eye contact. “Look at it this way. We’ve already waited close to eight months. I’m  _ not _ changing my mind.”

 

It’s a very persuasive argument, and Suoh’s dick is very hard, but those alone aren’t enough. He’s never taken advantage of anyone’s vulnerability and need for comfort after a scene, and he’s not about to start now. Especially not for their first time. So he thinks about what Hiro has just said. There’s a ring of truth to every word of it, and Hiro is just about the farthest thing from vulnerable he’s seen in a long time. Part of the reason he’s never gotten involved with a sub, aside from the fact that he hasn’t met anyone who could handle the level at which he likes to play, is that his list of criteria is just too demanding. Aside from the fact that someone like Akihito would run screaming from him after the first stroke he laid on their body, he doesn’t find the kid’s bratty behavior cute the way the boss does. And isn’t looking for someone who’s unsure enough about what they want that they’ve got to run away from it periodically, or kick at it. And while he understands that Liu could take what he dishes out (possibly more on some nights), even if he wasn’t a switch, his personal vanity masks an insecurity Suoh wouldn’t know how to handle. Being submissive doesn’t mean you have to come with baggage, and definitely doesn’t make you weak. Neither of the boss’s lovers are weak by any means. He’s even come to trust and respect both of them. But he’ll never have the boss’s patience. Maybe he’s been holding out for some kind of ideal. Someone who can not only handle what he likes to dish out, but who is at the same time submissive and respectful and not twitchy about being that way,  _ and _ who has the confidence and emotional stability not to  _ need _ to be either. 

 

He stares down at Hiro for a long time. There’s pleading in his eyes, for sure, but he’s about as sure as he’s ever been of anything that it has everything to do with honest desire and nothing to do with dependency or fear of rejection. 

 

“You win,” he says finally, then narrows his eyes at the hint of glee that lights the kid’s eyes. “Don’t get used to it.” The light shuts off like a switch, and Hiro lowers his eyes, but the smile doesn’t fade. It’s not intimidation or insecurity driving this young man to submit to him. He chooses to, plain and simple, and it’s a hell of a thing. 

 

“Hng...oh, fuck,” gasps Hiro when Suoh pushes him back down and resumes his ministrations, adding more lube and, this time, slowly pressing his finger all the way inside him. His soft curse ramps up to a cry when the finger twists and crooks gently, seeking carefully until Suoh finds what he’s looking for and grins as Hiro shudders and rocks into the stroke of his fingertip.

 

“There, hm?” 

 

“Ohh,” moans Hiro as pleasure sparks in his brain from having his prostate gently stimulated. He huffs in frustration and pouts a little when Suoh stops.

 

“Patience,” murmurs the older man, slowly fucking Hiro’s tight little hole with his finger. “I’m in no hurry.”

 

“I am,” whines Hiro, digging his toes into the bedcovers. “Feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”

 

“Little less than 8 months, another hour won’t kill you.”

 

“An  _ hour _ ?” groans the boy. “It really might!”

 

Suoh chuckles, not stopping.

 

“If I’m fitting my cock into this,” he crooks his finger again, “without damage, you’ll wait.”

 

He doesn’t know how long he spends fingering Hiro and doesn’t care. Suoh likes administering pain...of certain kinds. Likes it a lot. He’s not at all averse even to the sorts of play that can draw blood, including knife play. But there is a big difference between those sorts of scenes and making a lover bleed due to the size of his equipment. He’s learned to be careful, and found that he likes the contrast between sadistic Dominant and sensitive lover. It’s not until the boy’s asshole is taking his finger without a single sign of resistance and Hiro is nearly in tears of need that he slowly, slowly adds a second finger, adding yet more lubricant and easing into the soft heat of his body. Far from finding the new stretch this causes, Hiro only moans encouragingly and rocks his hips, utterly pliant. With slow, careful thrusts, he repeats the process he’d followed with one finger.

 

“Oh, gods….K-Kazumi….sir...please, more,” begs Hiro, practically sobbing with want. “ _ Please _ ! Want you so much.”

 

“You’re going to have me,” says Suoh in a low voice, spreading his fingers apart very slowly, just to the point where Hiro’s breath hitches and he gasps. “I’m so big, little boy. You’ll scream.” Hiro whimpers. “Yeah. But you won’t bleed, so you’ll wait. Until I’m ready.”

 

“I’m trying,” gasps Hiro. “I want to….fuck,  _ fuck _ ...to be good for you. I’m just….ngh….I can’t...I.”

 

“Hm,” says Suoh thoughtfully. He turns Hiro over onto his back, then presses his fingers back into his shuddering body. Hiro’s face and his cock are flushed. His hips roll entreatingly, his eyes glazed, mouth slack with need. “D’you need to come, Hiro-kun?”

 

“Yes! Gods, sir, yes, but I want  _ you _ …”

 

“Still going to have me,” Suoh assures him, wrapping his other hand around the boy’s weeping cock and strokes slowly. Hiro cries out and his hips roll up into the touch. He closes his eyes and tosses his head restlessly, hands gripping the bedcover reflexively. “Open your eyes,” orders Suoh sharply. Hiro obeys him again, and Suoh smiles, increasing the strength and speed of his strokes, watching the erotic expressions on the boy’s face until his body arches and he cries out harshly, his eyes going blind as he comes helplessly into Suoh’s hand. 

 

He waits until Hiro stops panting, but only just, then pulls his fingers out about halfway….and shoves them back in. Hiro lets out a choked cry and shivers. Suoh spreads his fingers until the young man lying spent and helpless under him whines softly at the stretch. He holds it there, fingers straining a bit against the way Hiro’s tight little hole clenches around them, until he feels the tense muscles relaxing. He’s still in no hurry, fucking Hiro open slowly with his fingers, scissoring them apart until damned but he’s not taking that easy too. His helpless whimpers and protests as his oversensitive body is stimulated slowly give way to renewed passion. When he’s hard again, and shoving his ass down against Suoh’s knuckles, he finally adds a third finger.

 

Time seems to slow for Suoh. He pays no attention to the clamoring of his own body, focused entirely on Hiro, on teasing his body open enough that when the time comes, it will be able to accept his girth. He has no idea how long it takes until Hiro’s accepting four fingers and the small twinges of pain on his face have long since been replaced by nothing but naked hunger, but he doesn’t care. There’s nothing for him but the bewitching sounds of the boy’s soft, frantic cries, the seductive feel of tight, exquisitely soft, warm heat sucking his fingers in, the filthy squelch of his slow, deep thrusts. 

 

“Ready for me, little boy?” he growls, easing his hand back. Hiro opens his eyes and looks up at him, blurred and a little wild.

 

“Yes, now, fuck me. You’re killing me. I’m ready. Hnh...I’ve been ready. Just…” He chants softly, his voice long gone hoarse from the seemingly endless torment Suoh has put him through for close to an hour now. A small smile playing with his mouth at what he’s wrought, Suoh rips open the condom package (he special-orders them) and rolls the condom down over his erection with one hand, popping open the lube yet again. He slicks it over himself liberally, closing his eyes at the sensation of the feel of his own fingers sliding down the length of his cock. Then he opens them and focuses his attention on Hiro. 

 

He flips the kid easily, chuckling remorselessly at Hiro’s overwrought whimper when his cock rubs against the bedclothes.

 

“It’ll be easier on you this way,” he explains.

 

“I don’t care, you can turn me into a damn pretzel, just  _ fuck _ me already,” complains Hiro. The sound he makes when Suoh slaps him sharply in the middle of his sore ass is priceless. Pressing apart the reddened cheeks with thumb and fingers, Suoh hums deep in his chest at the right of his loosened, slick hole. Using his other hand to guide the way, he presses the head of his cock against Hiro’s entrance.

 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says sternly. “Hiro...it’s going to hurt some. Tell me if it’s more than you can take.”

 

“Yes. I will, I promise. Sir... _ please _ !”

 

Carefully, he eases himself forward, slowly putting weight into the gentle push, the wide, fat head of his cock spreading Hiro’s hole open bit by bit. Hiro sucks in his breath as his body is gradually breached. He’s taken a very long time to prepare the boy for this, but Suoh knows his size is still going to be difficult for Hiro to take. He forces himself to breathe deeply and evenly, ignoring the clamoring in his skull to take and claim and ram himself into the willing body under him. He presses in until Hiro tenses, then rocks back and nudges his cock a fraction deeper. 

 

“Oh gods,” whispers Hiro in a strained voice as the head of Suoh’s cock opens his sphincter muscle. “So big….h-hurts…”

 

“Too much?” asks Suoh through his teeth. Hiro shakes his head.

 

“N-no...don’t stop.”

 

Suoh takes him at his word and doesn’t stop, but he goes as slowly as he can, pressing forward in tiny increments, then rolling his hips back before carefully entering a little more. Hiro’s thighs tremble as his body strains to accept the invasion, his breath coming in short, harsh pants. He turns his head to the side and Suoh can see the tears in his eyes.

 

“With me?” he asks, his own voice a little raw now too. Hiro nods once.

 

“Hurts. More.”

 

“Well damn,” says Suoh, and gives him what he asks. It takes a long time, and both of them are sweating, and Hiro is crying a little by the time his hips press against the boy’s hot, quivering cheeks. Suoh heaves a huge sigh and leans down, laying his forehead on the back of Hiro’s shoulders. “Such a good boy. I’m there. You got all of me.” Hiro laughs weakly, then whimpers when it makes his stuffed, aching, stinging hole clench.

 

“Y-you can move...i-if you want,” he says in a small voice.

 

“In a minute,” says Suoh, though he’d really like to. He forces himself to wait, ignoring the hammering of his heart, waiting for the convulsive, pained clench of the muscles in Hiro’s stretched hole to ease a little. He feels it, the moment the kid’s body starts to relax, accepting the massive intrusion. He’s had lovers who couldn’t, no matter how patient he was, and grins, pressing a softly biting kiss to Hiro’s shoulder. He rocks his hips gently, and Hiro moans.

 

“Oh my god,” he whispers.

 

“More time?” inquires Suoh, hoping he doesn’t sound impatient, because damn, he’d really like to move. 

 

“No. Do that again!”

 

Suoh does, and when Hiro’s response is the same, he risks rolling his hips back just a little, then pushes back in. 

 

“Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ Yeah, I’m okay, I’m good. More,” pants Hiro. There’s still strain in his voice, but it doesn’t sound like  _ Too much _ now. It sounds more like the kind of pain that’s exactly enough, and that, Suoh can work with. He drags his cock back, closing his eyes at the sensation of the tight heat gripping him so tightly. It’s nearly killing him to do it, but he still keeps his movements slow and easy, pushing back in until he bottoms out. Hiro lifts his hips to meet him, another shuddering moan falling from his lips. The pleasure mingled with a little pain sets Suoh’s blood on fire. Another slow thrust follows, and another. After too many of these for Suoh’s fraying nerves, Hiro peeks back over his shoulder at him and bucks his hips sharply. Suoh hisses.

 

“It’s gonna be totally futile, because you’ll squash me like a bug, but if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear I will try to kill you when I can walk again,” he growls. It’s so fucking cute, Suoh has to laugh for a minute, but when he stops, he narrows his eyes and flashes his teeth. Hiro gulps, then howls when Suoh pulls back and  _ shoves. _

 

He may have learned from experience that patience, attention, and gentleness are the only ways he can usually safely prepare anyone for his size, but once a certain point has been reached, that gentleness shatters like glass. An animal growl rumbling in his broad chest, Suoh lowers his head and  _ fucks. _ Hiro wails as he’s hammered into the mattress. The sheer girth of Suoh’s cock means he doesn’t have to dry, he drills the boy’s sweet spot with every thrust. Suoh has taken so much time to prepare him, even after bringing him to orgasm once, that he’s spiralling in minutes, helpless little cries punched out of him every time Suoh’s massive cock slams home.

 

“Ohgods...I...I can’t...I’m…”

 

“Gonna come, little boy?” 

 

“Ngh...ye...oh, now,  _ now _ !” Hiro howls, fingers fisted in the covers, shaking like he’ll break as he spills over Suoh’s bed. The flutter and blindingly tight clench unravels Suoh’s control in moments. His fingers dig brutally into Hiro’s hips and he gasps Hiro’s name as he comes, pleasure burning through his blood like flashfire, seeming to go on and on. With a groan, he rolls them both carefully to the side, withdrawing carefully while the endorphins of his pleasure still hum through Hiro’s body, preventing it from hurting him as much as it would later. The boy still whimpers a little, then bats at Suoh weakly as he gently spreads him open to make sure he’s not damaged. Hiro’s hole is red and swollen, and he’s probably going to be pretty sore tomorrow, but he’s not bleeding. Satisfied, Suoh pulls the young man back against him and tucks an arm around his body, snugging him close. Hiro twists a little in the embrace to look up at him, blinking and flashing him a slightly tremulous, sweet smile.

 

“All right?” asks Suoh, brushing a few strands of hair back from Hiro’s sweaty forehead.

 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk later, but right now I feel great,” says Hiro sleepily, still smiling.

 

Suoh smiles back, and kisses him softly, then pulls back and frowns a little.

 

“I’m not an easy man. I’m willing to try. But Hiro,” he warns, “I mean it. It won’t be easy.”

 

“If I wanted easy, I’d have stuck to just cutting hair,” says Hiro, lifting his chin and looking Suoh straight in the eye. “I’m not afraid.”

  
“No,” agrees Suoh, tucking Hiro’s head under his chin and pulling the blankets up over them so the boy won’t get chilled as he starts to come down. “I know. You’re fearless.”


End file.
